


The Boy with the Crimson Gun

by Celestialmari



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestialmari/pseuds/Celestialmari
Summary: It was December 31st, 2180. The city was rich with the sounds of crowds celebrating the coming new year. Neon lights shone brightly as the world collectively built to the year's final moments. As the time clicked closer to midnight, a group of seven shadowy figures infiltrated one of the largest skyscrapers in New Tokyo. Three entered the main hall, dressed head to toe in gowns fit for such an elite event. The other four entered through the backdoor, knocking out two guards in the process. Everything was perfectly in place.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Kudos: 24
Collections: Shuakeshu Artist Server's Secret Santa Fics





	The Boy with the Crimson Gun

It was December 31st, 2180. The city was rich with the sounds of crowds celebrating the coming new year. Neon lights shone brightly as the world collectively built to the year's final moments. As the time clicked closer to midnight, a group of seven shadowy figures infiltrated one of the largest skyscrapers in New Tokyo. Three entered the main hall, dressed head to toe in gowns fit for such an elite event. The other four entered through the backdoor, knocking out two guards in the process. Everything was perfectly in place. 

Inside of the building, affluent and well-dressed guests drank from crystal glasses and danced the night away, completely oblivious to the dubious and dangerous intentions of a nearby villain. They were also unaware of the group currently trying to save them. Known as the Phantom Thieves, the band of world-renown thieves were presently enacting one of the most vital heists in their history. 

“Joker!” Oracle exclaimed. Her vigorous typing could be heard through the earpieces of all seven Phantom Thieves currently in the field. “There are guards at the end of the hallway to your left. Go right.”

Akira Kurusu—alias Joker—quickly obliged. He was silent. His movements purposeful as he slipped past the guard-riddled hallway and into the clear. His long black coat covered a slender body, his eyes a fierce electric gold. The mask he wore was white, but used lenses that occasionally glowed blue with incoming data. 

Following him were the three other figures. Ryuji Sakamoto, alias Skull, Kasumi Yoshizawa, alias Violet, and Goro Akechi, alias Crow. The group of four stuck close to the walls as they moved, meticulously aware of their surroundings. If a pin were to drop, they would hear it. This wasn’t their first time.

From the outside, the high-rise was pure glass. It rose far above the clouds, looming over the rest of the city. The lobby, where the gala was being held, was exactly what it looked like. Glass walls. Multiple staircases and platforms with silver rails. Topiaries and other plant life that was rare to see in the rest of the city. Guests could see all the way to the top of the tower, with a beautiful view of the stars in the night sky. Unbeknownst to visitors and onlookers alike, upper floors not only existed, but also contained a ring of passageways, rooms, and other secrets. Reflective panels and projections disguised the building’s inner web of hallways and tunnels from anyone who didn’t already know they existed.

The owner of the building had selected the “best of the best” to come to celebrate that evening, getting ready to unveil a particularly life-changing new technology. Guests with cybernetic enhancements—holographic eyes said to create sharper vision, surgically augmented mechanical limbs, and other “quality of life” additions—highlighted an appalling distinction between the classes. Inside, these people were above the human condition, while outside the city was falling apart. This was false perfection. A dirty band-aid, not a solution.

“Oracle. Status,” Akira demanded, already deep within the building’s tunnels. Sweat beaded above his brow. His breaths heavy, but calm. 

“Dr. Maruki is still mingling with the guests,” Futaba Sakura—alias “Oracle”—replied. “Queen, Panther, and Noir are keeping a close eye on him. The second he moves, you’ll know.”

“How close are we to our destination?” Akira asked.

More typing. “At the pace you’re going now, ten minutes,” Futaba answered. It was 11:29 PM.

Akira opened his mouth to ask another question but was briskly interrupted. “Would you stop yapping?” Goro spat. “What a great leader. You sure you _don’t_ want us to get caught?”

Akira stopped in his tracks, looking back at Goro with a look of baffled annoyance. “I don’t know, do _you?_ ” He argued, stepping right in front of Goro. 

Goro wore a black and blue striped turtleneck and black pants. Instead of a mask, he donned a helmet, which resembled an old motorcycle helmet but sharper, almost bird-like, and more molded to the shape of his face. With a press of a button and a high-pitched _hiss_ , the helmet seemed to melt away, revealing his bright red eyes and a scowl on his face. The two eyed each other bitterly, neither backing down. Similar flames flickered behind their gazes. 

“Would you two shut up?” An infuriated whisper came through their coms. It was Makoto Nijima, alias Queen. “You’re _both_ going to get us caught. Knock it off.”

With a huff, Akira turned away from the other boy and continued on. The others followed suit. 

The grey hallways, decorated only by a line of blue lights along the floor, seemed endless. It was hard to tell where they were in relation to the rest of the high-rise. Danger was lurking around every corner as the group darted through the upper levels of the building. The goal was locked in a secure room at the very top of the skyscraper, surrounded by all kinds of security. 

Prior to the heist date, the group had thoroughly researched the building. Futaba spent days hacking into the building’s security system, revealing its protocols. Yusuke Kitagawa—alias Fox—had infiltrated the most secure parts of the high-rise, posing as an art appraiser. Having no direct link to their target, Dr. Maruki, and having very real experience as an artist, the role was ideal for him. 

“You’re getting close now,” Yusuke assured, leaning over Futaba’s shoulder to speak into the microphone. In the background, The Phantom Thieves’ cat, Morgana, was meowing cheerfully. His mewling reverberated, echoing throughout the getaway van. 

Akira nodded, even if Futaba and Yusuke couldn’t see it. He wordlessly motioned to Ryuji, who proceeded to peek around the corner to check for guards. His bright dandelion hair was a bit of a dead giveaway, but he was scrappy and could brute force through anything if need be. His metal arm could really pack a punch.

It wasn’t long before a glass elevator came into view. It was an elegant design; not functional for their purposes. Akira remembered what both Futaba and Makoto had pointed out when they reviewed the plan. The elevator was created to view the lobby as it rose, and subsequently be visible from it, meaning that they would likely be noticed. Unfortunately, it was a risk they would have to take and the building schematics exposed no other options. As soon as the elevator became visible from the lobby, the real challenge would start.

The elevator required a keycard to operate. 

Ryuji hurried forward. “Thanks, Fox,” he cheered, slipping the keycard out from his pocket. As part of Yusuke’s stint as an art appraiser, he was able to swipe the card from one of the high-ranking managers. The whole group heard Futaba’s delighted giggle in response to their success.

The mini celebration was cut short when the elevator cab arrived with two guards inside of it. 

“Shit,” Goro hissed, pulling out an antique-looking revolver. It was a burnished gold with a very thin barrel. The first time Akira had seen it, he was sure it couldn’t do much damage. 

Goro’s swear was lost to the commotion as the Phantom Thieves launched into an attack. Akira, raised a gun of his own, an inky black one with a more modern look, and shot two bullets into the first guard’s shoulder. 

The guard screamed, but charged forward anyway, more android than human. Drawing what looked like a stun baton, the guard dove straight for Akira. In a blink, Ryuji was there. He blocked the baton with his metal arm and swung with his other one. His fist connected with the guard's face with a loud metallic crack. 

“Fuck!” Ryuji exclaimed as the guard stumbled to the ground, passed out. He cradled his fist with his other hand. “That shitheel is made of metal!”

The guard’s face was torn where Ryuji punched him, revealing an unrecognizable tangle of metal limbs and wires. The man was definitely born human, but whatever he was now was far from it.

“Are you ok?” Kasumi squeaked. 

There was no time. The second guard came rushing forward, straight for Kasumi. Akira and Ryuji hurriedly got into battle stances, and Akira began shooting bullets at the guard, avoiding lethal areas. It was no use. The guard wasn’t even slowing down. 

Akira gritted his teeth. There was no way they were going to retreat now. Not with so little time left. As if reading his mind, Oracle pleaded, “Joker, there’s only 15 minutes left. You have to _move._ ”

Just as the guard was about to collide with all three of them, three shots rang out. The “bullets,” crimson and made entirely of light, sliced right through the guard's skull, effectively killing him. The man crumpled over, landing at the team’s feet.

Behind the man’s body, stood Goro. Smoke was still wafting from the barrel of his revolver. He opened the visor of his helmet and stared, frustrated at the rest of the thieves’ shocked faces.

“What the hell did you just _do?_ ” Akira shouted, furious. The others’ gazes all fell on him. It was rare to see him get angry. “That’s not how we do things.”

“Excuse me?” Goro snapped, a flash of something passed his eyes—hurt or maybe fear—but was instantly extinguished. He wasn’t having any of it. “I did what I had to do.”

Akira looked at him for a moment, searching for something. The usually quiet, but assertive boy was enraged, but there was something more in the way he combed through Goro’s expression. Almost like a sense of disappointment or melancholy. With an exasperated sigh, he put his gun away and stepped towards the now vacant elevator. Ryuji who was still holding his injured fist sauntered after Akira. It was likely that he had broken a bone. 

“O-Oracle?” Kasumi stuttered, obviously shaken. “Is he…?”

“Yes,” Oracle answered immediately. “He’s dead.”

To her credit, Kasumi followed the other two into the elevator. It was 11:48 PM. If they didn’t hurry, they’d all end up the same as the guard bleeding out on the floor.

Goro stepped into the elevator. Not at all bothered by his own actions. The guard would have killed all of them, and the rest of the world would have gone down with them. He was just doing what had to be done. Sure, Akira wouldn’t look at him right now, but if he hadn’t done it, then Akira wouldn’t be looking at anything at all. 

As the elevator doors slid closed, Akira thought about a few nights ago…

It was a cold winter night. December 24th, 2180. Akira sat on the window sill with his back against the interior casing, hugging his knees to his chest. His mask lay on a nearby table. The freezing air drifted through the open window as the rest of the Phantom Thieves slept quietly in their rooms. The Thieves’ Den, as they liked to call it, was the only place Akira felt he could truly be himself and he privately hoped that the others felt the same.

“Kurusu,” Goro greeted him, materializing as he stepped into the moonlight. His light brown hair cascaded across his shoulders. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Akira asked. He motioned to the other side of the window, silently asking Goro to sit with him. Goro lifted himself onto the window sill, resting opposite to Akira.

“No,” Goro replied. His eyes were tired; his mind far away. “I was up.”

The two boys sat quietly in the darkened room. The moon and city lights illuminated their faces, bathing them in a purple glow. Shadows danced on their expressions as cars sped by, creating patterns on their skin. The air was frigid. Yet, both of them felt comfortable; their legs brushing in the cramped space.

“I had a nightmare,” Goro admitted. He didn’t look at Akira when he said it. Instead, his gaze settled on the passing cars and pedestrians. There weren’t many at this time of night, except for the occasional drunk stumbling his or her way through the city.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Akira responded, looking directly at Goro’s face. The harsh light and shadows made his expression hard to read but it seemed sad. It struck Akira how young Goro looked in that moment. Beautiful.

“I guess so,” Goro mumbled. “Although I don’t know why I would tell you anything. I don’t trust anyone. Why would I trust you?” His words were more confused than frustrated. They were directed more towards himself than the boy in front of him.

Akira stared out the window. “Maybe it’s because we aren’t that different?” he whispered. 

The two sat silent for a moment, lost in thought. There was a connection between them. Something that they were both vividly aware of, but never brought to light. Their reality couldn’t sustain a connection like that, so they went about their lives avoiding it, as though admitting it would just make the world even darker. 

“I’m not like you...” Goro’s voice trailed off. “Maybe, I’d like to be.”

Akira placed a hand on Goro’s knee in a genuine gesture of comfort. Looking at the boy in front of him, Akira wasn’t afraid. Instead, when he studied him—eyes full of concern and affection—he saw someone who was fighting. Someone who wanted to be better. Someone who believed in a better world. Someone really not too different from himself. 

“I like who you are,” Akira assured. “I don’t want you to be anyone else but you.”

Goro placed his hand over top of Akira’s for a moment, letting himself feel the warmth of the touch, before the familiar feeling of rage started to build up in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“You’re so _good,_ ” Goro blurted, tossing Akira’s hand away. “I hate it. I hate feeling like I have to live up to your example. Like you’re somehow better than me. You’re not.”

“I don’t think I—” Akira started but was quickly interrupted.

“Stop.” The tears in Goro’s eyes threatened to fall. “You’re here trying to save the goddamn world. I’m here trying to save my own skin. To try not to be this terrible monster so many people think I am. But the truth is, I am that monster. I always have been. I always will.

“You’re not a monster,” Akira pressed, gold, cyber eyes flickering with emotion. He tried again, reaching out to touch Goro’s face; to wipe the tears from his eyes. He wanted more than anything to kiss the boy in front of him. For him to know he was loved.

“I don’t want your _pity,_ ” Goro shouted, smacking Akira’s hand away. “Do you want to know what my nightmare was? I dreamt of killing you. Actually, it’s even worse. I dreamt I enjoyed killing you. I dreamt that I relished your blood spilling over my hands.”

Akira’s eyes widened. It was only for a moment, but it was too late. Goro noticed the reaction, accepting it as confirmation of his worst fears. 

“Our next target…” Goro began. “Dr. Maruki. My previous employer urged him to change me by force. To _fix_ me. Replace my grotesque mind with their version of normalcy.” He dropped down from the window sill, no longer looking at Akira. “I despise the idea of fitting into someone else’s ideal.”

Without another word, Goro retreated into the shadows.

“Wait—” Akira cried, but Goro was already fleeing out the door and into the winter cold. It was then that Akira noticed something rather odd. The revolver, holstered at Goro’s hip had changed. For as long as he could remember, the revolver had been a pristine gold, with blue laser beams, but as Goro slipped out into the night, the gun turned a darker shade, glowing a faint red instead. 

Back in the elevator, Akira peered down at the same revolver in Goro’s holster. Earlier, when the beams had carved through the guard’s skull, they were unmistakable. A deep scarlet red. 

The elevator _wooshed_ as it rose out from the opaque floor the Phantom Thieves had been on and out into its translucent glass case. They would be visible for the two minutes it took to get to the top. Down below, the three other members of the Phantom Thieves kept a close eye on Dr. Maruki.

As midnight ticked ever closer, the atmosphere of the event grew louder. Partygoers filled the main hall, their feet dancing on glass. Near the back of the room was a large stage area on which a band played music for the energetic and excited guests. Dr. Maruki stood nearby. Women and desperate elites surrounded him, trying to gain his favor. This night was meant to be a celebration of his soon to be greatest achievement. 

Makoto Nijima stood on one side of the large hall. She was well known among the elites because of her sister Sae’s position as a Public Prosecutor of the New Tokyo District Special Investigation Department at the Public Prosecutors Office. Surrounded by law enforcement and other government officials, Makoto spoke naturally and charismatically, just like she had all her life, even if privately she loathed their corruption.

Nearby, Ann Takamaki—alias Panther—mingled with celebrity guests. As a famous model, her presence at the event was a given. Out of all the Phantom Thieves, she was the only one to actually receive an invitation. Known for her cybernetic cat ears and augmented blue cat eyes, Ann definitely attracted attention. In this case, working to distract party guests from looking up at the elevator. Even though she was well-known and beloved by many, no one knew who she really was, or that the nails on her fingers could turn into mechanical cat claws perfect for dealing with an enemy.

It was Haru Okumura—alias Noir—who kept the closest eye on Dr. Maruki. Her father, CEO of Okumura Foods, had worked with him before, asking the doctor to replace his head with one that could breathe in space. The doctor obliged, giving Kunikazu Okumura a permanent astronaut helmet. Haru stayed close to Dr. Maruki, under the premise that she wanted to thank him for the “necessary” surgery he had conducted on her father. 

Whispers erupted among the crowd as Joker, Crow, Skull, and Violet came into view, the elevator skyrocketing up to the top floor. Haru tried to distract Dr. Maruki, resting her arm on his shoulder and laughing at something he said. The man was smart though, and the increasing unrest amongst the crowd caught his attention. 

His eyes widened as he saw Joker wink at him and wave from the elevator.

“I-I’m sorry, but I must go. Immediately,” the doctor said, removing Haru’s arm from his shoulder. He moved quickly, not running as to avoid causing more panic, but hurrying enough that the girls knew he was scared. It wasn’t long before he was slipping into the building’s maze of secret halls.

“Joker,” Haru whispered into the comlink. Without Dr. Maruki, the crowd around her had parted and she was momentarily alone. “He’s on his way.”

Their job done, Makoto, Ann, and Haru slipped out into the winter night, unnoticed by the flock of confused CEOs, government officials, and celebrities, who had already forgotten the brief disturbance.

Dr. Maruki was more of a mad scientist than the doctor he claimed himself to be. He offered perfection to those who were desperate for it and had the wealth to back it up, but he did not value human life. His perfection was selfish. A world that appeared beautiful on the outside but was rotten on the inside.

The elevator pulled into the top floor at exactly 11:50 PM. It was an all-glass room, with a white, marble podium in the center. On top of the podium was a clear glass box that contained exactly what the Phantom Thieves were searching for. 

Stepping into the room was like stepping into the night sky. Below, the main hall was still visible, but due to Futaba and Yusuke’s intel, the group was certain that the guests could no longer see them. 

“Violet,” Akira ordered. “You’re up.”

Kasumi strode forward. Unlike the others who were mostly human, Kasumi was much more mechanical. As a long-time patient of Dr. Maruki, the majority of her body had been replaced with cybernetic limbs. Her ebony coat hid most of the changes, but when she moved, her crystal-like legs were briefly visible under the fabric. Her fingers were made from the same substance, said to give her the dexterity and agility necessary to be the perfect acrobat. 

As she got closer, a web of red laser beams came into view. The Phantom Thieves already knew exactly how the object was guarded and were prepared. Kasumi eyed the beams carefully, mapping out how to get through them. With Dr. Maruki already on his way, this had to be done as efficiently as possible. One wrong move and the upload would start early. 

Behind them, the elevator doors closed and the carriage began to descend. Dr. Maruki would be here in exactly four minutes.

Goro remembered his time—long ago—working with Sae at the Prosecutor’s Office. He remembered how she couldn’t accept him the way he was. She wanted to force him to change, to subject his body and mind to the lunacies of the madman currently on his way to stop them. She had called him broken; a monster. Rage flickered in his eyes and he pulled out his gun, aiming it straight at the elevator doors.

“Crow,” Akira said carefully. It was a warning.

“That man is dangerous,” Goro replied through gritted teeth. He made no move to put his gun away. “You’re forgetting why we are here.”

“You’re right,” Akira stated. He stepped closer to Goro, his hand hovering over his own holster. “But I can’t let you kill him. We’d be the same as him.”

“What, a monster?” Goro mocked. An angry laugh bellowed out from deep within him.

Akira looked stricken. Words caught on his tongue, refusing to be spoken. The body lying somewhere on the ground floor flashed across Akira’s mind. There was fear and distrust there. An awful feeling that Akira detested. Sheer melancholy overtook him as he imagined a different world. One in which there was no bloodshed, no corruption, just him and the boy in front of him, sitting by a small house with a white picket fence watching the sunset. Why couldn’t they have something like that?

The elevator stopped briefly, the cables switching directions. Dr. Maruki was coming up. 

“There’s no time for this!” Ryuji exclaimed. While the two were arguing, Ryuji had followed Kasumi up to the tangle of lasers. She had already started navigating them, making it past the first layer of beams.

“Crow, please,” Akira begged. “Trust me. There’s got to be another way.”

Goro hesitated. With every nerve in his body screaming to do otherwise, he lowered his weapon, but did not put it away. A compromise.

Kasumi was over halfway to the object now. The three boys stood guard. Ryuji stayed close to her while the other two guarded the door. It was 11:54 PM.

The glass elevator slowly ascended, stopping at the very top of the towering skyscraper. Inside, stood Dr. Maruki. He was more machine than men, his skin glistening gold, his eyes metal. Mechanical tentacles exploded out from inside his chest, smashing the elevator doors and heading straight for Goro who was closest to the door.

“Keep going!” Ryuji screamed. Kasumi was almost there. Just a few seconds more.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Dr. Maruki cried. His voice was metallic, a cacophonous mix of sounds bytes. The tangle of wires and metal coming out of him wrapped around Goro’s body. He struggled, shooting laser beams wherever he could, but it was no use. The doctor wasn’t going to go down that easily.

Akira rushed into action. Noticing that gunshots were useless, he drew what looked like a large dagger from a sheath around his thigh. The blade glinted with reinforced titanium, sharp enough to cut through anything. He sliced straight through the tentacles around Goro’s body, setting him free.

“We’re stopping you,” Akira retorted. The smugness he was known for dripped tantalizingly from his words. “Your false revisions end here.”

Goro stumbled out of the tentacles’ grip, falling right into Akira’s outstretched arm. Akira helped him to his feet. The two shared a glance, something unspoken exchanging between them.

“Do you really think one small band of thieves is enough to stop evolution?” Dr. Maruki laughed. The cut-down tentacles were quickly replaced with more. He was unfazed. “This world wants change. Those people downstairs, they need it.”

“Hell yes!” Kasumi cried. She held the clear glass box over her head, victorious. Inside floated a simple flash drive. The small, insignificant-looking object held the power to change the human race. To create a perfect people. A perfect world. The elites still entertaining themselves in the lobby down below, oblivious to the plot above them, were to be the first test subjects of Dr. Maruki’s programming. A virus that would be uploaded to the brains of any individual who had stepped into the doctor’s office, altering them forever.

“Yeah!” Ryuji cheered, jumping in the air. “Good job, Violet! You did it!”

“We’re ready guys!” Futaba’s voice came through their earpieces. The laser beams around them flickered out as Futaba’s furious typing rang through all of their ears. “Run!”

Kasumi and Ryuji were in the positions they had discussed before the heist. The escape for them was simple and already in place. The other two were nowhere near where they needed to be. The realization seemed to don on both of them. Akira and Goro were on their own.

“We need to help them,” Kasumi gasped. She immediately started to move towards them, box in hand.

Ryuji put his good arm out in front of her to stop her. “No,” he said, grimacing. He gestured to the flash drive in her hands. “We need to get that out of here first. That’s what Joker would want.”

“They’ll die without us,” Kasumi cried. There were tears in her eyes.

“We can’t save them if we’re dead,” Ryuji replied. Outside, the wind started to pick up. The fluttering noise of a helicopter drowned out any form of conversation. “Let’s go.”

Both Ryuji and Kasumi ran to the other side of the room, far away from the two other Phantom Thieves and Dr. Maruki alike. The helicopter, a black vehicle with what looked like bright blue eyes and a surprisingly cat-like shape shot a beam of light directly at the glass walls of the tower, creating a hole big enough for them to escape. 

“Hurry up!” Yusuke yelled from inside the Mona-copter. Makoto slid the door open, outstretching a hand to help her allies climb on board. Her fancy gown ripped at the hem in the harsh wind, clearly not designed for this sort of situation.

Kasumi and Ryuji stepped outside of the building. There was a narrow metal ledge around the room for them to stand on. With the helicopter so close, their hair flew wildly, making it difficult to see. Kasumi pushed forward, handing the box with the flash drive over to Makoto’s waiting hands.

“No!” Dr. Maruki bellowed. He rushed forward, after them. Without any hesitation, both Akira and Goro placed themselves in front of him, refusing to let him pass without a fight. They grappled onto him, each holding an arm as the doctor struggled to break free of their grip to no avail.

Makoto and Yusuke helped the two escapees into the helicopter. With a worried gasp, Ann immediately ran over to Ryuji with a first aid kit, sitting him down to take a look at his broken hand. In the front of the vehicle were Futaba and Haru. The two sat by the controls ready to get the group to safety. Treasure in hand, all they had to do now was fly away, but the group hesitated. They didn’t want to lose their leader or any vital member of the team. 

“Go!” Akira ordered, still struggling against Dr. Maruki. “Get out of here!”

After one last moment of indecision, the helicopter moved away from the high-rise, flying far off into the distance. The last two Phantom Thieves were left alone. 

Breathing heavily, Akira and Goro pushed Dr. Maruki off of them. The rest of the group was gone. The flash drive was gone. It was over. Dr. Maruki had lost. 

“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” Dr. Maruki shouted, furious. His whole body shook with imperfect rage as he charged at the two boys once again, shards of metal flying out of him at top speeds. “We could have had paradise.”

A stray metal fragment hit Akira, slicing through the skin by his left rib cage. He crumpled to the ground, crying out in pain. He did his best to crawl away from the doctor’s line of attacks. 

Goro dodged out of the way of Dr. Maruki’s blades and punches, backflipping closer to the shattered glass. He ran for the smashed exit, stepping out onto the ledge, leading the crazed man away from the wounded Akira. The cold air hit him like an oncoming train. Freezing. Painful. The city below looked like millions of tiny glowing ants.

Dr. Maruki wasn’t going to stop. It was like something inside of him broke and he no longer had a sense of self-preservation. Instead, he kept punching, kicking, sending out stray tentacles and metallic particles without any sort of care for his own wellbeing. The man was falling apart right in front of them and all Goro could do was keep Akira safe the best way he knew how, by endangering himself.

It wasn’t long before the doctor stepped out onto the ledge, unfazed by the cold air. His metal skin didn’t seem to feel it at all. Goro pitied him. Better to feel, to make mistakes, to be human, than to feel nothing at all. If anyone knew that, it was Goro himself.

“This world is terrible,” Dr. Maruki murmured, his eyes wide. At this point, he was mostly trying to convince himself. “Why would anyone want it to continue? I just wanted to fix it.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” Goro said. He gazed at Akira who lay on the ground behind Dr. Maruki. The ebony-haired boy was still awake; still breathing. Drops of blood coated the floor around him.

The world around them seemed to slow as Goro made his decision. He raised his gun, aiming it directly at the villain’s head. “You can’t force people to change,” Goro stated. “It has to be their choice.”

Akira watched helplessly as the doctor turned towards Goro. A fear unlike any other coursed through him as he realized Goro’s plan. It was a sacrifice. A sacrifice that would end with the two of them—Goro Akechi and Dr. Maruki—plunging to the ground below. While the drop would only maim Dr. Maruki, his cybernetic form virtually indestructible by anything other than a direct shot to the mainframe in his head, the boy would not survive.

As Goro lured Dr. Maruki forward, his gun still confidently aimed at the man’s forehead, he was sure this was the only way to both protect Akira and let go of the monster within himself. Akira reached for his dagger. It lay close to him, barely a hair’s distance away from his fingertips. Agony tore through his body, blood flowing out of the open wound as he moved. He tried his best to stay silent, not wanting neither the doctor nor his fellow thief to notice him. 

Just as Akira deduced, when Dr. Maruki was close enough to Goro, the younger man lowered his weapon, glancing briefly at the ground far below. His movements were melancholic, his chest heaving as he drew in what he thought would be his final breath. 

Before Goro could tackle the doctor and jump, Akira used the last of his energy to throw the dagger, slicing directly through Dr. Maruki’s throat. His head dislodged from the rest of his body, landing safely onto the metal ledge, as the rest of his body faltered, plunging down into the abyss below.

For a moment, neither boy moved, stunned. Dr. Maruki’s head lay still on the ledge. The couple seconds that passed felt like an eternity, until a hologram appeared over the metal face, reading “Entering Sleep Mode.” He wasn’t dead, but it would take a long time to rebuild him.

Immediately, Goro ran to Akira, dropping onto the floor beside him. Akira let his body relax. He let go of the knife and laid back against the cold glass floor. 

“You saved me,” Goro whispered. He pressed the button on his helmet, letting it melt away with its signature hiss. There were tears in his eyes as he cradled Akira’s head in his lap. “How did you know what I was planning?”

He ripped off a piece of his sleeve, wrapping the fabric around Akira’s waist to stop the blood. The wound looked much worse than it actually was, and Goro was relieved to know that Akira would live.

The Phantom Thieves’ leader was quiet. His face was filthy underneath his white mask. Tired eyes fell closed as he let himself rest for a moment. 

The elevator nearby suddenly started moving again. Guards, law enforcement, or whoever else were coming up. The two of them couldn’t be here when they arrived. Neither were in a state to continue fighting.

“We have to go.” Akira lifted himself onto his elbows with a groan. As he tried to stand, Goro was there, wrapping Akira’s arm around his shoulder and helping him walk.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Goro asked. 

Akira grinned as best he could through the pain. “It’s a risk,” he dared. “Check my coat pocket. I have a grappling hook.”

Goro laughed. Even in this state, Akira was a thrill-seeker and a risk-taker. He reached into Akira’s coat pocket, pulling out what looked like a giant silver claw with a handle. The wounded boy in his arms, Goro walked over to the ledge, back into the frigid cold. With Akira directing, Goro shot the grappling hook around the metal ledge, in a sturdy-enough position to safely hold them both. 

“Do you trust me?” Goro asked. The elevator was ascending once more.

Akira hesitated for a moment, but looked Goro directly in the eyes when he responded. “I do.”

The elevator doors no longer slid open but were a smashed hole in the glass. Out of it came a horde of around a dozen guards. Each equipped with heavy weaponry. It was now or never. Goro took a deep breath, holding Akira close, and jumped off the building. 

The night sky exploded into thousands of neon lights as the two boys flew safely to the ground. Fireworks of all shapes and sizes bathed them both in lights of every color as the world burst into cheers of “Happy New Year.” The two watched as the atmosphere around them seemed to swell up with a rare but powerful degree of happiness. It was a moment of immense hope. Their hair blew in every direction, and the cold air nipped at their skin, but the mission was a success. Even better, they were together.

When their feet finally touched the ground, the two thieves retreated into the shadows. It was where they belonged; where they were comfortable. They stopped in an alleyway far enough from the skyscraper. Their legs turned into jelly as they both collapsed onto the floor. Their breaths were heavy, blood coursing with adrenaline.

“I couldn’t let you die,” Akira finally confessed. His voice was broken and it sounded more like a plea than a statement. His gold eyes glowed in the darkness, somehow brighter than the fireworks still going off over their heads. The world was still roaring with glee. “I love you.”

Goro didn’t hesitate, taking Akira’s sweaty, bloody face in his hands and kissing him. The kiss was desperate and hungry. It was vicious. It took everything and gave very little in return. Akira kissed him back just as forcefully, the world around them becoming hazy and unimportant. The only thing they cared about was each other, and this moment they happily stole. 

“I should have stopped you that night,” Akira whispered in between kisses. “I should have made sure you knew how I felt. I need you to know that I’m not afraid of you. I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way.”

The freezing air did nothing to stop the warmth building between them. Their hands began to roam, slipping under garments to touch skin. The heat from their bodies was comforting. It felt like home.

“I want to change,” Goro murmured. His voice was just as wrecked as Akira’s. He broke the kiss, burying his face in Akira’s neck instead. “Tonight, I could feel myself doing so.”

“I don’t need you too,” Akira asserted, pressing kisses into Goro’s hair, his fingers tangled in its strands.

Goro let his hands wander across Akira’s skin, avoiding the gash along his ribcage. He wasn’t ready to part yet. To go back into the world.

“I know, but I was ready to,” Goro whispered, pressing a kiss to Akira’s jawline. “I could have killed him so easily. Just a pull of my trigger and he would have been dead.”

“But you didn’t,” Akira assured him. He looked up at the fireworks as they erupted across the night sky. “Up there, I thought I was going to lose you,” Akira continued. “For a moment, I didn’t care whether or not he died, as long as you got to live.”

Lifting his head from Akira’s shoulder, Goro looked up at the sky with him. The _boom_ of fireworks was somehow calming. It felt far away.

“We made our choices,” Goro responded. His voice was sad. Akira had risked an action he could never come back from, and for what? To save a boy who wasn’t worth saving? He couldn’t believe it, but in his heart, he was genuinely glad that Dr. Maruki would recover.

“I don’t regret mine,” Akira said.

“I don’t either,” Goro replied. With the adrenaline starting to dissipate, Akira would be in a lot of pain very soon, but that was nothing new in the life of a thief. 

Akira’s eyes were far away for a moment, glassy and a little cold. Goro placed his fingers on Akira’s jaw, gently urging him to look at him instead of the distracting lights. Red eyes stared deeply into gold as the two boys reveled in being wrapped around each other, whether it was right or wrong. Goro could sense Akira’s anxieties. His thoughts of other outcomes. Deaths. Murders. 

“It’s over now, Akira,” Goro stated. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Akira didn’t say anything. Just searched Goro’s eyes curiously. The reality of the situation was hitting him. His emotions felt knotted, an odd mix of relief, wistfulness, and sorrow. The world was cruel. Everything was a risk.

“I love you too,” Goro said suddenly. His grip was tight against Akira’s skin, as though the black-haired boy was a boat in a chaotic sea. Together, they would be okay.

The words seemed to reach Akira, who grinned. His fingers still played in Goro’s hair. 

“If I had to make that choice again, I would,” Akira mumbled softly. He wrapped his arms around Goro, flinching slightly at the pain in his ribs. “Thank you for making yours.”

Akira brushed his lips against Goro’s once again. The kiss was much softer, gentler. It carried a promise of a future. A promise to keep each other on the right path.

A metallic meow interrupted the moment. Bright azure eyes lit up the alleyway, revealing the exhausted, enamored figures of Akira Kurusu and Goro Akechi. 

“Oh,” Goro said sadly, unwrapping himself from Akira. The creature’s appearance marked an end to their moment and a return to reality. “Hello, Morgana.”

The cat yowled. It’s metallic body gesturing to follow it. 

Both boys hesitated. Morgana would take them home; lead them to the rest of the Phantom Thieves and to their next target. Yet, for the first time, neither wanted to do so. The Thieves’ Den suddenly felt more like a halfway house than a home, but they couldn’t abandon their duties.

Goro helped the injured leader to his feet, and they began to stumble after Morgana. The city streets were full of people as the year 2180 became 2181. When they finally reached their home, the others cheered. It had been a victory. A new year had started. The world was looking up. Yet, an emptiness had infiltrated Goro’s heart, a worry that good things only brought disappointments.

As the next morning rolled around, and the sun started to peek over the horizon, Akira was laid down into bed. Goro, who brought him to the bedroom after the others had gone to sleep, hovered over him for a moment. They were too young for any of this. Akira’s porcelain skin was unaltered by age, his features still those of a teenager. Goro considered staying. The idea of crawling into bed with Akira was comforting, but he decided it wasn’t meant to be and headed for the door instead.

“Goro,” Akira marveled, stopping Goro in his tracks. “Come back here.”

Amusement flew across Goro’s face. “You should be sleeping,” he lectured. 

“Without you?” Akira responded, yawning softly as he lifted the covers. “After telling me you loved me, how can you expect me to sleep without you?”

Goro stepped back towards the bed, hesitating before deciding that maybe he could let himself have this. At least for one night. He set his gun on the nightstand before crawling into bed.

In the living room of the Thieves’ Den, an old TV played the local news station. “Famed Dr. Maruki was nearly assassinated during his New Year’s celebration by a group of assailants known as the Phantom Thieves. Members of his company were able to salvage the data stored in his brain and are already in the process of rebuilding him. Updates on this story will be provided as we learn more.”

Makoto Nijima, the last Phantom Thief awake, pinned an image of a man to a corkboard in the same room. The photo had the words “Next Target: Kaneshiro” written on it in red ink. It wasn’t long before she too fell asleep, her head lying on the desk as she listened to the static of the television, and the roar of passing cars. 

Back on the nightstand in Akira and Goro’s darkened bedroom, Goro’s revolver, which had once glowed blue and later red, was now something in the middle. A simple shade of lavender. 

The world they lived in would continue whether they wanted it to or not. Choices would continue to be made. Fate would continue to be challenged. Yet, after everything they had been through, at least they had each other. Maybe everything would be okay in the end. Careful not to cause Akira any pain, Goro finally let his eyes fall shut. For the first time in over a decade, he slept completely through the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the Akeshuake Artist Discord server's Secret Santa! My gift is for @fantasmaglorii on Twitter.


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